The Golden Spider (The Elemental Web Chronicles Book 1)

by Anne Renwick

  The curtain separating them from the corridor twitched. A pair of intent eyes glanced inward. Satisfied, the man let the curtain fall back.

  “My guard,” she informed Ned. She had a highly trained government agent to keep her safe. Suddenly, Amanda felt the need to be anywhere but trapped in the Symphony House making not the slightest bit of progress.

  “I’ll try,” Ned said.

  “You’ll do more than try,” she retorted. “You can start now. I need to go.”

  “Go where? Now? What will I tell Mother? Or Mr. Sommersby when they come looking for you?”

  She shrugged, not entirely certain where she was headed. Out. Away. “What you tell them is your concern. I won’t be back.”

  “What of your safety!”

  “My assigned guard will keep me safe.”

  She left Ned sputtering.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  AMANDA’S FEET MADE no sound on the burgundy carpet as she crossed the gleaming white marble entryway of the Symphony House. Beside her, two-storied columns rose upward to support a dome from which an enormous crystal chandelier glittered. Gilded iron railings wrapped up the sides of the curved stairs that led upward to the private boxes. The Queen had spared no expense. No wonder Amanda’s brother thought so highly of himself.

  “Good evening,” she greeted her guard.

  He nodded politely.

  She closed the gap between them and leaned close to his right ear, whispering into the acousticotransmitter. “And good evening to you as well, whomever you are.”

  The agent’s eyes narrowed with annoyance.

  “We’ll be leaving shortly,” she said. “But first I need a moment.”

  He stiffened.

  “I won’t go far.”

  Yet.

  It was time for her to go. The question was where. Home to her own laboratory to pursue the reformulation of the nerve agent? What progress could she hope to make where her sister had failed? When the chemists at Lister University had dismissed the formula?

  She would return to Thornton’s laboratory. The rebuild of the neurachnid was nearing completion; there she could make progress. Yet without a working nerve agent, ultimately her spider would fail.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it, Lady Amanda? This monument to music.”

  “Lady Huntley,” Amanda said with surprise as she turned toward the voice.

  “A rare outing,” Lady Huntley explained. “A command performance to maintain the illusion.” She detached herself from the gentleman in evening wear who stood at her side. The man seemed familiar. Tall. Blond. Privileged. Overconfident. “Have you met my brother-in-law, Lord Huntley?”

  Ah. That explained the familiarity.

  “You look much like your brother,” Amanda addressed the new viscount. “May I offer both my condolences and my congratulations.”

  The man bowed. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Amanda.” His words drawled as his eyes raked approvingly over her form, resting on the swell of her bosom.

  Lady Huntley rolled her eyes. “Come. Walk with me.” She tugged Amanda away. “The man is a determined rake and not worth your notice. Besides, we need to speak.” She set a leisurely pace. “You were missed today.”

  Amanda had no doubt. “Was Thornton upset?”

  “Rather.” Lady Huntley glanced at her. “He told me about your brother. I’m sorry.”

  She nodded. What more was there to say?

  “Those notes you sent, they’re most impressive. Your sister would have made an excellent botanist. Still could.”

  “Emily would tell you she already is. That gypsy lore is worth a lifetime of study, one that she has already commenced.”

  “Love does tend to make one blind. And impulsive.” Lady Huntley’s eyes saddened.

  They’d reached the far side of the entryway. From a short distance, Lady Amanda’s guard followed at a respectful distance, keeping close watch.

  “I’m sorry I was short with you the other day,” Lady Huntley said, turning to face those still arriving through the entryway.

  “I understand,” Amanda said. “Having one’s personal privacy invaded does not make for a cheerful mindset.”

  “It certainly does not.” Lady Huntley paused. “I spent quite some time combing through your sister’s notes, and it just now occurred to me to wonder. Do you think it possible that Lady Emily could sketch the plant? Perhaps it is not a mere weed. Perhaps it grows in the greenhouse. They do maintain an extensive selection of plants, many are medicinal.”

  A greenhouse. Amanda had not known Lister University maintained one. “And given the correct conditions, blooms can be forced,” she said, brightening. “I’ll send a note to my sister straightaway.”

  “Eloise!” The new Lord Huntley stood at the base of the stairs, looking rather impatient.

  “I must go,” Lady Huntley said, turning away. “Duty calls.”

  “Lady Amanda.” Her guard appeared beside her. “You’ll need to return to your box.”

  “I think not,” she replied, striding past him out onto the broad steps of the Symphony House, searching the street. She could find a messenger boy, but given the time it took to send and receive a response, it would be faster for Amanda herself to carry the message to Emily.

  Despite the assurances Thornton and Black had given her as to her sister’s safety, Amanda needed to be at her sister’s side, to see for herself. To know Emily was well-guarded.

  Besides, there was the matter of Ned to discuss.

  “No. I need to be somewhere else entirely.”

  The agent sighed in resignation and followed in her wake as she descended the stairs. She shivered, missing her warm wrap as a gust of cold night air reminded her that autumn quickly progressed into winter. A gypsy campfire would warm her, but first she had to get to Putney Heath.

  Several steam carriages lined the street, their engines idling as drivers reclined on their seats or gathered about lampposts, puffing on cigars. She had no money and without funds, no driver could be convinced to abandon their employers. Amanda eyed the many conveyances, searching for the Avesbury carriage. It was here. Somewhere.

  She took a step forward, intending to search it out, but was caught mid-step as hard fingers dug into her arm.

  “Where might you be headed?” Thornton growled beside her.

  She tried to yank her arm away. “What are you doing here?”

  “Stopping you.”

  She glanced behind her, looking for her guard. “What have you done with my agent?”

  “I dismissed him.”

  She spun to face Thornton and was struck dumb by the striking figure he cut. He was every inch an earl out for the evening. A tall top hat. A new, silver-capped ebony cane. A snowy cravat tucked into a maroon brocade vest and pinned with a ruby. Tailored black evening attire engulfed the rest of him in darkness. No beard shadowed his face tonight, not a single strand of hair curled free. His lips were pressed into a hard line. The harsh planes of his face and the ice blue of his eyes warned he was a dangerous man to cross.

  He turned his head and a tiny pinprick of green light winked on the device fastened about his ear.

  “You were monitoring me?” Her words sounded outraged, but then it struck her. Thornton exhibiting possessive and protective behavior while she was out with Simon. The corners of her lips curved upward.

  “This is not a joking matter.” His eyes sparked in anger. “After your failure to report to the laboratory and the information provided about your brother’s activities, I was concerned about your mental state.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Then why do I find you running from the building alone?”

  “I wasn’t going anywhere alone,” she objected. “I had a guard.”

  “Now you have me.”

  “Do I?” Amanda leaned close, rising on her tiptoes and all but pressing her lips to his ear, she whispered, “Is such a thing possible?”

  “Amanda.” His voice held a note
of warning.

  “For I think I’ve made my interest clear. Next time, you could dispense with all the technology and simply request to escort me yourself.”

  He released her arm, shifting away. “Not here, Amanda.”

  Exactly as she’d expected. “Let me know if you ever figure out where.” Then she started down the stairs, suddenly feeling very alone. “I need to speak to my sister.” She scanned the waiting carriages. “Which one is yours?”

  He followed, leaning on his cane. “Emily is safe.”

  “In a dark field? Surrounded by trees? Near a road that anyone might travel at any time?” She scanned the street and spotted his vehicle.

  He’d brought his own personal carriage, his family crest displayed in all its glory on the sides. The best disguise tonight was none at all. She stalked forward. As no one made a move to assist her, she yanked open a door, scooped her skirts up about her knees and climbed inside.

  “Take me to Emily,” she commanded Thornton.

  ~~~

  “My lord?” Thornton’s driver asked.

  Thornton sighed with resignation. “Kensington Gardens it is.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Thornton pulled himself inside, landing heavily on his seat. Already his leg throbbed and it was only four hours since the last injection. He gripped his cane tightly; he’d checked its contents twice before beginning this evening. It wouldn’t do to find himself low on cartridges again. He stared at the beautiful, headstrong problem across from him as she shivered in the cold moonlight.

  Her iridescent blue gown was designed to showcase her assets, not to provide warmth. A profusion of peacock feathers fanned across the bodice and fluttered from shoulder straps, creating an illusion of sleeves. A shimmering blue bead necklace wrapped tightly about her throat once, dipping deep into her cleavage on its second circuit. It was impossible not to look, and, therefore, impossible to think.

  Resigned, he pulled off his coat and passed it to her as the carriage jerked into motion. She murmured her thanks, and he knew a moment of gratitude as the black wool swallowed her form. Thornton let the dark and the silence wrap about him.

  She cared so very deeply about her sister, about her family. What would it be like to have someone care so deeply about him?

  Mother viewed him only as her duty, the required son, necessary only to pass on the Thornton name. He had no siblings. Lady Anne had agreed only to a marriage of convenience; it had hurt not one bit when she cried off. Only Huntley had ever really known him.

  Or so he’d thought.

  John had been the brother he never had. Theirs had been an instant friendship, borne of shared interests and shored up by long hours in a laboratory. Together, they’d been a driving force behind the establishment of Lister University School of Medicine.

  The thrill of discovery and invention drove him, but Huntley had lost direction, succumbing to one of the many opportunities London presented a young, unmarried earl. Gambling. He’d been so convinced his mathematical formulas would win back the small fortune his father had squandered. They hadn’t. Then, with a mountain of debt confronting him, Huntley had eyed Lister Laboratories with greed and sought profit by turning traitor.

  His betrayal had cut Thornton to the quick.

  Ever since, he’d been careful to keep acquaintances and colleagues at a professional distance. His caustic reputation and scathing remarks in the classroom kept students at bay. Fellow scientists regarded him with awe, but steered clear, seeking him out only when necessary. Black and Lady Huntley were the closest he had to friends, and theirs was a working relationship.

  Lady Amanda alone refused to honor his boundaries, constantly pushing for something more. When she looked at him, it was as if she could see into his soul. Such easy familiarity was unsettling. The hours they spent together were the best hours of the day. He was drawn to her in a way he’d felt with no other woman.

  Yet one didn’t trifle with a duke’s daughter. So he held himself apart, kept her at safe distance.

  “Why,” he spoke into the shifting gray shadows. “Why are you so intent on Mr. Sommersby?” Thornton had been treated to a nauseatingly detailed account of the modifications Sommersby was willing to make to his home in order to accommodate Amanda should she agree to be his wife. But she sounded unconvinced.

  Amanda’s eyes grew large, then, perhaps remembering he’d been listening through the acousticocept, narrowed. “Why do you care?” she asked.

  “Humor me.”

  She hesitated so long, he thought she would decline to answer, but the dark of night made confidences easier. “I must marry,” she said at last.

  “Must? Most practicing female physicians remain unmarried.”

  “Most practicing female physicians do not have dukes for fathers who make their continued enrollment in medical school conditional. I have the rest of the academic year to become engaged.” Her face fell flat and her voice lost all color as she spoke. “Should I wish to return to Lister University next fall, a wedding is required.”

  “That seems…‌ unfair.”

  It was more than unfair. That a mind as brilliant as Amanda’s should be placed under the control of a man whose medical career would be middling at best did not sit well with him. Aside from the man’s talents in chemistry, Thornton was at a loss as to why Sommersby had been recruited. Should Sommersby, as her husband, forbid her to practice medicine, or to conduct research, Amanda would have no choice but to obey.

  “It was the bargain I made,” Amanda said. “I am allowed to attend medical school, provided I marry.” She laughed bitterly. “At the moment, Mr. Sommersby is the only one in pursuit of my hand. What choice have I but to accept his attentions?”

  Thornton swallowed and looked away. His initial assumptions had been correct, but only in part. She was indeed husband hunting, but only under duress. Someday he would need to take a wife. But now? He was willing to do much to further her career. But marriage? No. Marrying her was not the right solution.

  Why, then, did it sound so appealing? To have a woman like her in his life. By his side in the laboratory. In his bed.

  He cleared his throat; it felt oddly constricted. “What you need is not a husband, but independence. Or, at the very least, more time.”

  “I happen to agree,” she said. “Father does not.”

  “Will you allow me to speak to him?”

  “You intend to offer for my hand?” She leaned forward, her eyes soft and round. “I accept.”

  It was a punch to his gut that sucked all the air from his lungs. “I…‌”

  “Oh, for goodness sakes, I know what you meant,” she said, falling back against her seat. “By all means, try. Perhaps you might hold some influence or think of a good argument for extending my deadline.”

  He nodded, breathing deeply as he forcibly pushed the topic into a dark corner of his mind for later consideration. “Why must we visit Lady Emily?” he asked instead. “What can you possibly hope to accomplish?” Then repeated his earlier assurance, “Lady Emily is well guarded. You are well guarded. Provided you let our men‌—‌let me‌—‌do our job.”

  “You’ve reviewed Emily’s notes?”

  He nodded. Her sister’s work was impressive. For an amateur. “They were extensive.”

  “Before she…‌ left, Emily hung many plants to dry. I’ve tried recreating her formula using distillations of all those she thought related to the amatiflora. None of them work.”

  That explained the long hours in the chicken coop. His agents resented‌—‌profoundly‌—‌the need to brush feathers from their clothes after standing for hours in a room full of snoring hens.

  She continued, “What if the amatiflora is not just some pretty weed? What if your botanists are growing the very plant we need in their greenhouse, but know it by another name? What if Emily can sketch the plant, its flowers?”

  He understood. “Then our botanists can identify it and, perhaps, force it to grow, to flower.”
>
  “Exactly.” She nodded. “Because otherwise, until the amatiflora blooms again, the formula is worthless.”

  He doubted this path was worth pursuing. Then again, the smallest of discoveries could often have great implications, and they needed this drug. “Very well. We will visit Lady Emily.”

  “Thank you.” Amanda visibly relaxed, turning to look out the window and the passing landmarks finally registered. “This is not the way to Putney Heath!”

  “No. It’s not.” He held up a hand as she inhaled to object. “We’ve had Lady Emily‌—‌and a small portion of her band‌—‌relocated. Your father is a very powerful man. With special permission from the Queen herself, a small number of vardos have a temporary encampment in Kensington Gardens beside the Long Water. It is there that I have directed our driver.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  IT WAS AN ODDLY picturesque and romantic sight. Five vardos formed a circle lined up nose to tail about a single campfire. Behind them, as if a backdrop for a play, a palace rose shimmering in the glow of gaslight. A man dressed in bright colors sat on an overturned bucket, swaying as he drew out a melancholy tune from the fiddle pinched between his shoulder and chin.

  Though the gypsy played on, all eyes turned in their direction. As recognition dawned and their last entrance recalled, a number of mouths turned downward.

  Emily looked up, and Amanda knew instant relief. She exhaled the breath she’d been holding. For the moment, her family was safe.

  But keeping it that way…‌

  Luca reached down and helped his wife rise to her feet. Together, they stepped outside the circle of wagons, crossing over the neatly trimmed lawn to where Amanda and Thornton waited.

  Beside her stood a silent clockwork horse, his springs all wound down for the night. The same horse that lurched to the right with every sixteenth step? Luca’s craftsmanship was impeccable and she strongly suspected he’d set Thornton atop an unbalanced horse quite deliberately.

  “Dare I hope you arrive with news of the eye doctor’s capture?” Luca asked, by way of greeting. “Your agents’ Romani, all but Black’s, it hurts the ears.”